


The Binds of Yesterday

by Anonymous



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Childhood, Civilian AU, Gen, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Civilian AU that focuses on the childhood of the batfamily





	1. Remnants of Rain

**Author's Note:**

> To clear things up: Yes, Helena Wayne is involved in this because it’s not the norm and I am a rebel. She is Selina’s child, but Bruce and Selina were never married. She falls (agewise) between Dick and Jason (a nod to her origins). Bruce adopted Dick, Jason, Cassandra, and Tim at young ages. Talia and Bruce are married (albeit that may come to an end, as this fic suggests). Bruce Wayne was never Batman, but still works tirelessly at fixing Gotham. (Perhaps too much.) That’s all I can say without spoilers, but I hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred meanders down memory lane and is forced to face reality.  
> (Or the Civilian AU fic that follows children and civilian life, with all its entanglements. It's cute, have no fear.)

“Lorna to front, Lorna to front.”

The intercom clacked off, leaving the shoppers to resume their peaceful meandering. A gentleman nearing a gray age (and yet maintained an impeccable mustache) gracefully turned his cart around the corner. His eyes discreetly checked the package inside. A child of three years was tucked in the interior, a small shoe slipping off a sock-clad foot. His flushed cheeks were still in sleep, frog green pacifier slipping out of his teeth.

Alfred bent slightly to adjust the blanket under the body, stretching it out. Damian had been restless at nights lately. The toddler napped infrequently, so any sleep he was able to garner was welcomed. The man absentmindedly patted his charge’s small span of back. The child’s schedule had been disturbed since the day after his birthday, when…

Alfred shook his head. He returned to the cart handles and maneuvered to the front, deciding to go meat shopping tomorrow. The man stepped into line.

“Hi! How are you?” the cashier chirped, scanning items.

Alfred gave her a small smile. “I am very well, Miss Lorna. May I inquire after you?”

She waved her hand. “Wish the rain would hold up. October’s such a gloomy month in Gotham.”

“That it is.”

Here Damian sighed, fidgeting slightly.

“Oh,” the woman cooed softly, leaning over to look at the child, “this is the little one, hm?”

Alfred nodded and after a moment replied, “Just so.”

She bounced back on her heels and resumed scanning items. “Why, it feels like just yesterday the entire brood was following you in here,” she recalled nostalgically. She grinned. “I remember the dog incident. I had just started here and I laughed for hours afterward. Nearly got fired.”

“Yes,” the man responded, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “This young sir has yet to be banned, thus the shopping experience is far more convenient.”

She hummed, double-bagging several products. “Looks to be my Colin’s age,” she mused. “If the wee thing wants a friend, I can bring him over. Sweetest child you ever did see,” she said, fond at the thought. “It’s a miracle. I fer sure thought that karma would get me for being such a hellion growing up, but he is so gentle.”

“There is always the next one.”

The woman burst out laughing. “Thanks for the warning!” she replied between her giggles. She mock-saluted him goodbye and moved onto the next customer.

Alfred made his way out and glanced at the sign near the front.

ABSOLUTELY **NO** BIKING ALLOWED.

The children’s actions had so generously bestowed it upon the warehouse store four years back. The mustache quirked upwards in remembrance.

 

_“Master Tim!”_

_Alfred’s heart couldn’t take any more of this. Bruce had been a handful, but his children…_

_Jason ran after the six year old kamikaze on a bike. “Outta the way, Alfie!” he shouted in warning. “He’ll hit you!”_

_Cassandra was right behind him. She gasped, “He’s gonna crash!”_

_“It’s all right, we have insurance,” Lena reminded the group airily, jumping over a cranberry juice spill caused by her siblings._

_Dick’s wide eyes met her gaze. “That’s in case Bruce dies, not Tim.”_

_The ten year old threw back her head and shrieked, “Brake, Timmy, brake!”_

_“The bike is a model!” Jason hollered back, ducking as his twelve year old brother vaulted over him._

_“Hold on, Timbo!” Dick assured him._

_“I am holding on!”_

_The miniscule bike picked up speed._

_“What’s the matter with a model?”_

_“The brakes don’t work!”_

_Dick reached the bike and grasped the tail, but slipped on the recently mopped floors. He fell with a thump, skin tearing and a bloody gash appearing above his knee. “He’s heading for the parking lot!”_

_“The cars will squish him!”_

_Cassandra tumbled forward, arms extended. “Timmy!”_

_“You’re gonna have to jump for it!”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Jump, Tim!”_

_“What?”_

_“JUMP!” they screamed in unison._

_Tim jerked sideways, but went nowhere. His shoelaces were stuck in the spokes. “Give my tamagotchi to Steph!” he yelled as he went hurtling out the front entrance._

_The three siblings gaped in horror._

_Suddenly, large arms came swooping from the side, plucking the compact six year old from his seat and stopping the hell-bent bicycle._

_“Safe!” Tim crowed, clinging to the man. His sneakers swung freely in the tight embrace, shoelaces snapped in half._

_“Daddy got him!” Cass reported back triumphantly._

_The three whooped for joy until a steely gaze lowered upon them._

_Jason froze, lowering his arms. “Hi, Dad.”_

He reached the car. It began to drizzle. Alfred hastened and gently scooped up the little sleeper.

“Boppa,” Damian muttered sleepily, nestling against his neck.

The man smiled, softly caressing the toddler’s dark head. “Boppa” was his particular name, as the young master had titled him. No one was quite sure what had induced the child to use such a name, but Dick suspected it had to do with “Butler” and “Pennyworth” smashed together. In any case, Damian had taken to the name and began shrieking it at all hours of the day.

Alfred ducked into the car and gently placed the tiny warm body into his car seat. Damian was buckled in with little fuss, though his hands did curl into the butler’s vest. The man sat back and pushed the errant strands of baby hair out of Damian’s eyes. He needed a haircut, Alfred mused, twisting a black curl around his finger once. The long lashes fluttered, eyes eventually closing once more.  
  
  
_“It was my idea,” the eight year old confessed, not looking very repentant. “We were just trying to teach him to bike without training wheels.” Cassandra tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, explaining, “Mr. Gordon said he could get it and needed one good push.”_

_Bruce closed his eyes. Cassandra was still having trouble with figures of speech and took things very literally. He rubbed his eyes and replied tiredly, “That’s just a saying, sweetheart. You could have hurt your brother very badly.”_

_Cass frowned and looked at the ground._

_Jason knocked her shoulder in solidarity and asked, “You’re not hurt, are you, Tim?”_

_The six year stuck his tongue out and wiggled his tooth. “My tooth’s more loose,” he lisped._

_“Probably from stress,” the nine year old replied sagely. “What you really need to worry about is your hair.” He inspected the little head. “Tim’s still got it. What about you, Pops?”_

_Bruce reached out a hand to swat him but Jason evaded it with a snort._

_“Dick is hurt,” he told them sternly._

_Dick shrugged. “I’m fine,” he said, blood thickly dripping down his leg._

_The man caught the heroic twelve year old by the collar. “You are not fine,” he sighed, guiding the boy to the car._

_Lena seethed. “I shall sue for emotional duress,” she announced. A nearby employee went white._

_He shot her a look. “That you created?”_

_“I didn’t push Tim.”_

_“An accomplice to crime, then.”_

_“That’s rude, Daddy.”_

_Bruce stifled a laugh and herded his errant children together._  
  


The car slowed to a stop. The red light shone through the water droplets. The gentleman flicked the windshield wipers to a higher setting, observing the road.

“Boppa,” the childish voice rang clear from the backseat.

Alfred tilted the rear view mirror to meet the child’s gaze. “Yes, Master Damian?”

The blue eyes–a startling electric, so like his father already–bore into him. His chest tightened. The child knew more than he let on.

“Where is Mama?”

The light turned green.

Alfred tore his eyes away from the baby–and he was a baby still. How could a mother leave her child at such an age? He cleared his throat. If he knew anything about Bruce, there would be answers forthcoming. It was not his place… No, damnit, it was his place. These children were his family. “Your mother is dedicating some time to herself,” he informed the three year old gently. He hid his opinion of her actions to himself. Talia was not a selfish woman by nature, but her decision was affecting his family so gravely.

“…Will Mama come back?”

His aged hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel. That was the question. That was the question Dick screamed in his and Bruce’s near violent arguments. That was the question Helena had never asked, being that she hadn’t returned since her model photoshoot in Italy last June. That was the question Jason wouldn’t answer as he slunk around the city, hiding everything. That was the question Cassandra ignored as she practiced her pirouettes endlessly, sweat falling into her eyes. That was the question Tim pondered as he stared at his bedroom wall, dear little Stephanie Brown chattering in his ear and trying to get him to smile. That was the question Bruce burned, staring into the empty side of the closet.

Alfred cleared his throat and replied, “What you must bear in mind is that your mother loves you, Damian.”

The toddler went silent, gazing at the rain soaked window and resuming sucking on his pacifier. He was getting too old for it, but no one had the heart to take what little comfort he had away from him.

Octobers were gray in Gotham. Talia had taken the sun, and left the remnants of the family behind to live in the rain.

Yet Alfred was here. He was here to love and take care of this family. He would be here for this child.

The raindrops clattered against the car roof.

“Love you, Boppa.”

“I love you, Damian.”


	2. Afternoon Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Bruce and Talia are busy wedding planning, the kids plan a wedding for themselves~  
> (Featuring chuppah, glitter, and Ace the family dog.)

 

Tim squirmed, yanking at his collar. Sweat gathered uncomfortably at his scalp. It was hot.

“Why couldn’t we go swimming?”

Dick, in a backbend, answered, “Because the country club said we can’t be there without Bruce.”

The seven year plopped into his lawn chair, swiping at his brow. “Why not?” he asked plaintively. Tim and heat didn’t mix–especially heat in late May when it was supposed to be fair weather, not a visit from the Sahara Desert.

“Because we let Ace swim in the pool, and Jason and Cass set off fireworks on the roof, and I used the golf clubs as vaulting poles, and—”

“I meant why can’t he take us?”

The thirteen year old flipped his legs over his head, placed them upon the floor, and rolled upright. “Bruce can’t hang out because he and Talia are going over ‘details’ with the planner.”

“But why?”

“Because they’re getting married, Tim. You already know that.”

“Married,” Tim repeated in a mumble. He slumped in his the seat. “Why would anyone want to get married?”

“You’re gonna marry me,” Stephanie piped up from two feet away, making daisy chains with Cassandra.

“No, I’m not.”

“C'mon, Timbo.” Dick strode over and ruffled his hair. “You’ve been with her since kindergarten. Time to make her an honest woman out of her.”

“Yes, make an honest woman out of me.”

Tim shuffled further into his seat. “Weddings are stupid,” he muttered defiantly, kicking the chair in front of him. Alfred cleared his throat and Tim blushed.

“No, they’re not!” Stephanie exclaimed as she sprang from the grass, daisy chains flying outwards like squawking pigeons. Cassandra peevishly removed the petals from her face. “Weddings are good, are great! There’s a service, and dancing, and dresses, and food, and cake—”

“Cake?” Tim sat up straighter. “You said cake?”

“Uh-huh.”

He raised his eyebrows, blue eyes suspicious. “Will our wedding have cake?”

The seven year old tilted her blonde head and replied through a mischievous smile: “LOTS of cake.”

“Okay,” Tim nodded. He stood from his seat and grasped Steph’s small hand. “Let’s get married.” He pulled her along to the manor.

“Today?” she asked, stumbling over her shoelaces.

Tim paused and waited for her to tie them. “Yep,” he said shortly as she stood, grasping her hand once more and breaking into a run, “right now.”

* * *

 

It was a joyous and busy occasion, for planning a wedding within an hour was an arduous process. The children buzzed round the house, more often than not bumping into one another. Alfred was appointed the duty of baking, with some negotiation of terms.

“How many cakes, sir?”

“Five.”

“Might I interest you in a compromise, sir? Cupcakes with a frosting buffet?”

“That works too.”

Cassandra was chosen for maid of honor, and spent fifteen minutes sorting through her arts and crafts to find suitable clay rings. Aware of the special importance of such a role, she superglued a crystal bead to Stephanie’s ring. After all, only the best for her dearest friend would suit for her wedding day.

Presentation strode to the forefront, with Lena in charge of hair, makeup, and dress.

“This is so exciting!” Stephanie exclaimed as she bounced into the older girl’s room. “Can I wear your white dress?”

Lena nodded, retrieving the First Communion dress from the closet. “You can even wear my Red Sox hat,” she told her.

Stephanie scrunched up her nose. “Thanks, but we have a theme.”

“What’s that?”

“Glitter.”

There was a misunderstanding of roles, but as good families are wont to do, they worked it out.

“This is a lot of gel, Tim.”

“In case it gets windy.”

“Who’s going to be your best man?”

“Ace.”

Jason snorted and squished another splotch of gel upon his little brother’s head. “What am I, chopped liver?”

Tim peered up at him. His face was tight from the vigorous brushing. “You can be my best man,” he promised, stepping upon the footstool. Jason shook his head at the kid’s height. Seven and still as small as a garden gnome. “Ace will be the ring-bearer.”

Of course, weddings cannot run perfectly. There were some mishaps, from:

“Can I have a little more glitter?”

“Sure!” Lena overzealously dumped the remaining contents upon the bride.

“Ouch! It’s in my eye!”

“Wash it out, wash it out!”

“IT BUUUURNS!”

To:

“Ace ate my ring!”

“Spit it out, boy!”

“He’ll choke!”

“Quick, open his mouth!”

“Oh, Ace, YUCK!”

Until finally the party made their way to the front lawn, where Dick had dragged the hallway carpet runner as an aisle and constructed a chuppah with the spare bedroom bedsheets (“I’m Jewish,” Tim had explained, placing his yamaka upon his small head).  

“Dearly Beloved,” Alfred began, surveying the miniature wedding cast. Stephanie beamed up at him, eyes still a little bloodshot. Tim was glowering at his finger, where a slobbery clay ring resided. The man pressed his lips firmly together, staving off a laugh. It wouldn’t do to laugh in a wedding ceremony, no matter how short the participants were. “We are gathered here today to celebrate Timothy Drake and Stephanie Brown, two individuals who have bonded over their love of cake.”

Cassandra threw the daisy petals in the air in affirmation.

“If anyone objects to this union, please speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Ace sneezed.

Lena narrowed her deep blue eyes at the canine and announced sternly, “That doesn’t count.”

“Very well,” Alfred conceded. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”

“Yaaaay!” Stephanie cried in delight, darting forward and kissing her groom soundly on the lips. She drew back with a smacking sound and exclaimed, “We’re married, Tim!”

The boy stood in a daze, eyes glassy. “Whoa,” he whispered, swaying on his feet.

The little girl clapped her hands and moved away from the chuppah. “We can eat cake now—”

Tim yanked her back for another kiss, elongating the process. They broke apart, breathless. Stephanie grinned and Tim smiled goofily. They leant in once more—

“Okay, okay, chill,” Dick advised, breaking the two lovebirds apart. His big brother compass was pointing to the N, meaning N-O. “Save some appetite for the cake, geez.”

Steph jumped forward and hugged her “husband” while he proclaimed, “That was great!”

“Yeah! Let’s kiss all the time!”

Dick paled.

The butler cleared his throat. “Perhaps it may be better to relegate kissing to formal occasions.”

The two sighed loudly but conceded with a nod, sneaking one last peck on the lips as they made their way to the cherished cupcakes.

* * *

 

Bruce sighed, looking at the glitter mess in the bathroom. His children were—albeit wonderful—horribly messy. He caught sight of a curly dark head. “Jason!” he called out. The boy poked his head round the corner. “Would you go get your brothers and sisters?“ he asked, wiping his newly sparkly hand upon his pants.

Jason nodded, stepping out and yelling up the stairs, "DICKLENACASSTIM, DAD WANTS YOU!” He returned, leaning against the wall and unwrapping a lollipop.

When did he—Alfred couldn’t have—where were his children getting all these damn sweets? He sent his nine year old a disapproving stare. “ _I_ could have done that,” he drily informed him.

Jason looked perplexed. "Then why didn’t you?” he questioned, lollipop stuck to the side of his cheek.

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

“I can go get them!” a chipper voice volunteered.

The man looked down to see the golden-haired munchkin bouncing around his knees. He raised a brow. “All right, Stephanie.” He sent an imploring look to his son. “And Jason can help you.”

Jason shrugged and made his way off, only to stop and complain, “Aw, Alfie!”

The butler appeared with the confiscated lollipop, eyeing it distastefully.

Bruce sighed.

Stephanie patted his leg comfortingly, assuring him in a placating manner, “I’m always here if you need me, Mr. B.”

With that solemn oath, Little Miss Brown flounced up the stairs, blonde pigtails flopping.

Bruce watched her go and met Alfred’s eyes with a smile. “I seem to have acquired another child, Alfred.”

The elder gentleman raised a brow, and replied smoothly, “Seeing as young Master Timothy has acquired a wife this afternoon, you have acquired a daughter-in-law, sir.”

Bruce’s smile dropped. “What?”

“No worries, Master Bruce. I persuaded them to hold off moving out and raising a family until Master Tim can reach the sink on his own.”

Alfred gave an elegant nod and swept away to the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Bruce panicked. Gone for an afternoon and his seven year old was married? Moving out? “Alfred, wait!”


End file.
